I’ve been realizing over the last week or so, just days from Christmas, that the holiday shopping commercials are really getting out of control. Then Noa posted about it on her blog this morning and when I went to post a reply, it was 2 pages long, so I decided to make my own post.
I know it’s been preached to death that Christmas is a time for family and friends to come together and delight in each other’s company without feeling a need to dull the shine with the taint of commercialism. The preachers aren’t wrong. It doesn’t feel like the holidays for me unless I have family and/or friends around to share it with.
The simple fact though, is that commercialism is here to stay. Railing against it is just 1-12 minutes of time that you could be pouring top-shelf holiday liquor in your hole. Get over it. That said, this year the commercials are so over the top that they’re just not believeable and they’re horribly offensive to the intelligence of everyone preschool age and older.
Oh, what’s that? Your wife wants you to wait on the couch while she gets your present and then a present rings and you open it without even checking the tag to see who it belongs to? Oh, and the phone wallpaper is a picture of the car she also got you? Fuck you, dude. Don’t touch presents unless you have the express consent of the giver, under penalty of shattered phalanges. And fuck you, car manufacturers. Most people would be happy with an iPhone, but you’ve got to be fuckheads and make expensive electronics out to be inferior gifts.
And you, bitch who got a a car key in a box and found a smartcar wrapped in a bow in your driveway? Fuck you for not being appreciative of getting a CAR for Christmas! Oh, you want the one your neighbor got? Do you want the $40k of debt that came with their car too? Shut the fuck up and give the man a blow job already, you ungrateful skank.
And while we’re on the subject of cars as holiday gifts, what alternate fucking universe do car manufacturers live in where someone’s spouse can just run out and buy a fifty or sixty thousand dollar car without their spouse getting a phone call from the bank or the dealership? Seriously, community property states, anybody? If I apply for a loan in only my name, my husband still gets a letter to say that I took on debt that he could still be responsible for if I don’t pay up. Not only is the whole premise of the commercial ridiculous, but you would never be able to give such a gift as a complete surprise.
Best Buy, you’re probably the biggest assholes of all, mostly because I feel dead inside for laughing at your stupid ass commercials. Are you really encouraging women to go and spend thousands of dollars on electronics for stocking stuffers to compete with a fictional character? And are women really doing this, because bitches better surrender their credit cards and go make some damn cookies. Your teenage son doesn’t need a new Android phone with which to take pictures of his micro-ween.
For all those pansy-ass bitches in the commercials who claim lovingly, “Your presence is all the presents I need this year,” you’re fucking liars and you will burn for it. It was just me and Ken on Christmas last year. We were only three months married, and that shit still wasn’t a magical day of bonding and romance. It was no different than our average Tuesday night.
The only commercials I’ve seen this holiday season that I like aren’t even holiday commercials. They’re the Samsung commercials that use their new, sleek Android phone with the huge screen to make fun of apple fanboys. But as much as I like making fun of the Church of Jobs and its miscreant hipster congregation, I still found the commercials irritating, because ’tis the season.
Just once, I want a Christmas commercial that accurately portrays a real Christmas in the average American household: The kids are fixated on new video games with chocolate rings around their mouths. Grandpa snores in the recliner behind them, drooling and mumbling in his sleep. The ladies are in the kitchen sipping coffee and telling dirty jokes while the men-folk are in the basement watching football.
Meanwhile, in a quiet, mood lit apartment in the world where fucking normal people live, a 20-30 something couple is taking advantage of the only sexy time they’ve had in 3 months of career and social climbing, and they are going ALL. OUT. Skanky LaRue in her assless chaps and cowgirl hat with leather fringed titty tassles and a riding crop; Biff Malibu in a compromising position, wearing bit & bridle and not much else. Skanky moves in to put a saddle on his back and in walks roommate Peeny Mactripod, wearing naught else but a cowboy hat and a shit eating grin, carrying a bottle of Jack Daniels and some glasses.
Tagline: Make this holiday season an affair to remember. Jack Daniels: Now it’s a party.
Ladies want a diamond necklace? Better start wearing some pearl ones. Gentleman want more gadgets/games/naked time? Strip down, don an apron, clean house nude. It’s the season of giving. Give big – give yourself.
Merry Christmas from our elegant, understated little nuthouse, y’all!
Hugs and puppies,
Atypical Me, Atypical Husband, and Mowgli (not a puppy).